


Warm Wishes to You

by Tagpye



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Christmas, Draconic Disguises, Legion based fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 04:21:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8782771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tagpye/pseuds/Tagpye
Summary: Stormwind's Feast of Winter Veil party does little to appease Anduin's mood. However an encounter with a stranger adds a certain amount of peculiarity to his night.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write something pretty and bittersweet. My new Christmas spotify playlist may have something to do with this fic.
> 
> (also a non-smut fic what is thissssssssssssss!?!?)

Festivities seemed almost hollow to him at the moment.

The first Winter Veil without his father beside him was one which made the festive spirit of the holiday flicker and diminish somewhat. Granted it wouldn't have been very proper of him to miss the annual party which Stormwind Keep normally held for the noble houses, but Anduin would have preferred a nice quiet holiday hiding from pretty much all life on Azeroth. As a prince? A possibility if he played his cards right. As a king? An impossibility.

All he had to do was attend the party really, getting involved wasn't especially a requirement. Being king of the Alliance he felt he had a lot more leeway being dark and brooding in the corner with a small party of delegates and guards. He swilled his amber glass and took a carefully poised sip. Getting drunk wasn't proper either, so he was greatly lamenting his kingship that day, for reasons more than one.

A number of people had propositioned him for a dance, but he aptly declined. Few others had attempted conversation with him since watching their rejections, which frankly made the entire ordeal easier. No people, no issue, no fuss. He motioned over to a waiter after tipping the last contents of his glass dry, listlessly watching over the crowds and couples twirling in the centre of the room, fingers clinking on his drink absentmindedly. The conversation at the table was achingly dry to make matters worse, Genn was sitting on the opposite end chatting  discreetly with a few of his men, Tess briefly had chatter with him before disappearing into the mass of partygoers, Jaina, a usual staple at the table, was completely absent. Her not being present made it feel like he had lost yet another family member, it was impossible for his mood to be anything other than vaguely sour.

As if sensing his displeasure however, a figure boldly made its way towards him. It had been about 35 minutes since anyone had last attempted to talk to him (he had counted), and the sudden encounter immediately caught his attention. Yet... it wasn't anyone he knew. A rather average plain woman, dark hair, tan skin, and a curiously eager expression etched on her face strided over to stand before him. He quirked an eyebrow as she bowed.

"King Anduin Wrynn, it is a pleasure." Her voice was smooth and musical, vaguely intangibly familiar in a way he couldn't quite place.

He responded modestly, "Pleasure to meet you too, and you are...?"

"Lady Karina, I couldn't help but to notice you were looking a little lonesome, forgive my brashness."

She didn't look apologetic in the slightest, Anduin mused to himself. Regardless his interest was piqued, he settled his glass down onto the cloth and gave her his full attention.

"Ah yes, parties aren't quite my thing really."

She smiled wickedly, something curious and peculiar in the way it seemed as if he had seen that expression countless times before. A delicate finger curled at her chin, "Is that so? Well, parties may not be your thing, but perhaps I could at least entice you for a dance?"

"I really don't think-"

She glanced pointedly to the intoxicated Dwarf who was slumped in the chair beside him, a rather audible stuffy snore echoing from his gaping mouth, "I'm absolutely positive I could provide you with more entertainment than you would find here. Just a dance? To humour me? I'll make the promise to leave you to sit and mope when we're done."

He almost felt insulted at how callously she picked out his feelings, yet he supposed he wasn't being too discreet in how utterly miserable he felt. The lights of the castle hall twinkled and flickered, the music and chatter a baseline hum of sound, and yet with this woman, as strange as it was, those sensations simply seemed to drown out as if her very presence demanded it.

It was very peculiar. Who was she? And did he really want to muster the effort to find out? His mouth answered for him before his thoughts could quite catch up,

"I suppose just one dance wouldn't be an issue."

"Wonderful!" She reached out a palm as he lifted himself from his seat, eyes almost seeming to sparkle with delight. She graciously took his hand and led him into the centre of the room, where he became very acutely aware of the fixed gazes and incredulous stares of the women he had declined. He hoped it wouldn't cause much of a commotion, he hadn't quite thought through the fact that by rejecting everyone in the room bar some strange woman that it would likely cause a spate of gossip in the noble caste of Stormwind.

Given the entire Legion invasion he had hoped they would have found something else to bicker and debate about in these difficult times, but evidently not. He could already see the whispering amongst the court ladies.

And yet this all mattered little to the woman in front of him, she surely knew the talk was of her and yet she held herself with such steadfast dignity he couldn’t help to feel a sense of admiration. She seemed to part the crowd with her poise, and was accompanied by such a confident and self-assured demeanour that he couldn’t help but to feel vaguely over-whelmed. She delicately and precisely stepped into the centre, and as if gliding to music or orchestrated by perfect clockwork twirled to face him, black hair flowing around her face as she chuckled at him with a wolfish grin and sharp eyes. His curiosity simply deepened.

"Shall we my king?" She sang.

While it was customary for the man to lead in these dances, he very much felt the woman before him to be snapping up that role in an instant. Hands aptly found their place at his waist and palm and he was plunged into the movement before he had time to simply even process it. The sweeping dancing crowds around them seemed to blur into a mess of colour. He had to confess that dancing wasn’t especially his forte, especially with his old aching ailments courtesy of the Divine Bell. Yet curiously it would seem as if she had taken this into account, moving with steady drawn-out gestures and taking the brunt of the sharper steps.

Presently, just remembering where to put his two feet took up the majority of his attention, but the woman began to talk,

“I am deeply sorry about your father. I might not have agreed with him on many matters, but I could see how much he meant to you.”

Quietness and heat seemed to burn at his ears, he had heard a million and one condolences from strangers, yet this one was the most genuine. Somehow, the sincerity made troubled emotions brew up from places where he had tried to hide them.

“You knew my father?” He said quietly.

Her mouth opened then fell shut again, “Not personally, but we were in similar political circles I suppose.”

It was an unusual answer, especially from someone he didn’t recognise. If she were a noble lady it could be expected that they simply might not have met before, but if she was a person of political power, it begged the question of why he had never heard of her name previously. It was… curious.

Yet she stole away the little time he had to dance and think, she whispered as if being considerate of prying ears, “How are you holding up?”

“I have a kingdom to run and a demon invasion to repel, I have little time to mourn and fall into depression.” He replied wearily.

“And yet you seem to be doing those things anyway!” She chuckled, “You need to stay vigilant, or your enemies could snap you up and chew you out in an instant.”

He felt irked at her chastising. But more so, the brief flash of irritation he felt was so nostalgically familiar it almost threw him off balance with how strong an emotion it provoked. Nothing about this woman looked familiar but the mannerisms and comments were definitely known to him. Instead of feeling insulted about her remarks he found himself becoming increasingly frustrated that he could not place neither where or who those memories were associated with, he was very very close, but it was something on the very tip of his tongue and out of grasp in his mind.

"Forgive me, but have we met before?"

Interestingly that did seem to provoke something; her eyes began to dance with stories and recollections and an extremely fond smile pulled at her lips, "Yes, a long time ago. Though I doubt you'd recognise me now."

Had he forgotten her? How could he have forgotten her? It was becoming increasingly obvious that every fibre in his body was signalling that this _was_ someone of importance to him. How could he have possibly have erased a person like that? The face, the name, neither were familiar to him no matter how much he wracked and rattled his brain. The more he stared the more peculiar emotions swam in his chest, but no sense of recognition rose up to aid him.

“You seem troubled, please don’t give it too much thought.” The grasp on his hand tightened and the woman embraced him more closely, “Can we just dance? For a little while?”

To his surprise her forehead dropped onto his shoulder, face etched with a delicate melancholy grimace. Against his better judgement his heart hammered and butterflies welled up from the pit of his stomach. It took every sliver of self-restraint he had to dismiss the desire to wrap his arms around her. Why did he want to do that? It simply felt natural in the situation, softly rocking to-and-fro around shadows of candlelight with a woman whose face he could not place. Somehow, his heart hurt. And as they twirled and twirled and twirled and he gently leaned in to rest his cheek against hers, the familiarity and intensity of what he felt engulfed him, took him back to places and memories, a misty violet morning, laughter and games and blossoming love. It all seemed so far away, yet tangible enough for him to touch.

She murmured so softly and gently that he wasn’t even certain if she was talking to him at all, “I’ve missed you, Anduin.”

He wanted to retort, he wanted to react, but he was stuck in such a curious state of limbo between shock and uncertainty that strength and conviction seemed to have drained from his body, “I…”

The barrage of sensations never ceased as she dropped her hands and raised them to cup his face, fingertips so warm and soft and so _so_ familiar, “You’ve grown so much since I’ve seen you last.” She breathed, her fingers lingering and tracing down across his skin and making his insides burn with sickness and yearning. It was almost like she was coveting a jewel or some other precious thing, eyes half-lidded and swimming with desire. He knew that look, all too well, he knew how it made his stomach coil and twist into knots upon knots.

And he let that moment hold, a self-indulgent taste of something far gone.

It was all just enough confirmation he needed to suddenly slip his fingers over her wrists and grasp them fiercely with a strong jerk of motion, the spell she had woven broken in that half a second of an instant,

"Wrathion." His voice cracked.

Her eyes seemed to smoke red as she let out a breathy laugh, and it did nothing to quell his heart, "Clever boy. Or was I simply too obvious?"

His fingers clenched into a vice-like grip on her wrists and his mouth ran dry, "I'm going to have to apprehend you." Of course after all. Wrathion was a criminal. Wrathion was a fugitive of the Alliance. Wrathion betrayed him. Wrathion meant nothing to him now,

in theory.

Wrathion's entire facade seemed to slip, eyes darkening, teeth sharpening into points, and the grin on his face never faltered, as if the entirety of the night and Anduin's actions had been carefully assessed and predicted in advance, "Of course you are." He said indignantly, that smooth self-assured tone ringing in Anduin’s ears.

“You’ll find me at a later date, there is much to be done and I’m utterly positive our paths are destined to cross. Till then my dear friend.”

Anduin only caught a few seconds of Wrathion’s usual attire and form standing before him when the entire room seemed to explode with a crackle of red, his vision burning pure white. When the screams died out and the blinding light faded from his eyes he found his arms empty and Wrathion nowhere to be seen.

“Guardsmen, secure the perimeter of the castle! And I want gryphon riders patrolling the city skies!” He barked, striding from the hall past shell-shocked patrons and crumpled dancers.

Wrathion wasn’t stupid enough to stick around and allow his arrest unless there was something to be gained from it. He swept from hallway to hallway, as if trying to follow any kind of trail that would lead to his whereabouts. He knew it was a feeble attempt, he knew Wrathion was likely long gone, having his entire escape route all set out and carefully planned to the last detail. He knew that really, this was all to clear his head from the clenching, uncomfortable emotions that were bubbling and churning over and over in his stomach. Why did Wrathion visit him? What was the entire purpose of putting himself in such a dangerous situation? To simply deliver a message?

Part of him knew Wrathion’s true intentions for his visit, their tender aching moment making it all too clear. Yet it made it easier to dismiss it all as another of the dragon’s well-crafted games, and dismiss it he did, it hurt too much to expose himself to the raw emotion of it.

He found himself slamming oak doors open, brisk winter air stinging his warmed skin. Snowfall had taken over the city, the sky clouded up with flecks of white. Finding Wrathion in this weather was an impossibility, certainly. He slumped against the door frame and sighed, heaviness sagging at his shoulders.

“Happy Feast of Winter Veil Wrathion.” He muttered bitterly out into the open.

Wrathion, perched atop one of the castle’s spires out of sight, let out a soundless hiccup of laughter. Stormwind blanketed in snow was a beautiful sight, he exhaled another misty breath and let his head loll back against the stone, “And you Anduin.”

**Author's Note:**

> I swear that this is not the only pairing I can write.  
> Anyways I'm praying for Wrathion/Anduin interactions in Legion this Christmas, season's greetings peace out.


End file.
